Darkness
by LovelyInspiration
Summary: Being here, it was like a mind game. And he was losing. (Alternate ending to "You Posted What?")


**Hello everyone! LovelyInspiration here, and I'm back with my second one-shot. Am I being too ambitious? Sorry, I just couldn't help it. I've been tweaking this story on and off since I wrote it months ago. (I'm a perfectionist.) But, now it's done, and I'm scary proud of it. It's one of my favorites, and I just couldn't wait any longer to see what you guys thought. If I didn't post this soon, I would surely explode.**

 **Now, this is an alternate ending to "You Posted What?!" It's about Chase's experience after the government takes the Lab Rats away. Despite how it sounds, I don't think it's too overbearing. It is a bit angst-y, though.**

 **Well, I guess that brings this author's note to an end. Enjoy!**

 **I do not own Lab Rats or the characters.**

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Silence. It filled the cold, empty air. A boy laid there on the hard, metal slab – which his captors called a bed – staring at the ceiling. The deafening peace and quiet was killing him. It was just _too_ soothing, so that it became unnerving. At home, he craved a silent moment to read alone. But now, that tranquility was what drove him to the brink of madness.

His only companions this past month were his thoughts. Thoughts of freedom, of family, of fun… It was never easy remembering what he left behind, or more precisely, what was ripped away from him. But, with such a lack of stimulus in this prison cell he's been kept in, not much else was worth thinking about.

He always felt he was alone back in Mission Creek. What with his siblings' constant degradation, it sure seemed like it. But, in reality, he never knew loneliness until he was brought here. Being left in a gloomy chamber for hours on end, lacking natural sunlight and human contact, it was torture.

Being the thinker he was, he enjoyed a good brainteaser, but not the kind of brainteasers he received here. The least he could be offered was a book, a crossword puzzle, or even a _ball._ At this point, he was willing to accept a small, spherical piece of _rubber_ to entertain himself.

But, he got none of that. They just kept taking things away from him. First his family, then the one thing he prided himself on, and finally, his sanity… _They're going to try and break me,_ he remembered thinking. _This is nothing more than a mind-game. The stronger my mind, the better I'll do. They seem to have forgotten; no one's mind is sharper than mine._ Alas, he didn't count on them confiscating _that_ as well.

Time and direction became lost on him, as well. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours, and hours to days, until he could no longer keep up. Left and right were jumbled. The thick, omnipresent darkness made it hard to determine the walls from the floor.

The darkness surrounded him, embracing him, effectively distorting his sense of location. It was confining, liberating, and comforting all the same.

The darkness, so dense, kept him from seeing two feet in front of him, therefore holding him hostage to the bed. He may as well have been shackled, because he was never leaving the bed. He couldn't even remember the last time his feet touched the floor.

But, sometimes (these were the times he enjoyed the most) it would make him feel free-spirited, like drifting alone in space. He could do whatever he pleased – in theory.

And, still, there were times when the darkness seemed like a caring mother. It was all around him, so close he could imagine being held in its arms. It had become the loving parent he desperately craved in this dire period of time.

It seemed endless, yet, just like Chase, the darkness was also confined by the boundaries of the cell.

Sometimes it was terrifying. Being left alone in a shady chamber made him feel vulnerable to attackers lurking amid the darkness.

Other times it was his best friend. Whenever he spoke, it listened. Whenever he was bored, it entertained him. He could stare into it while his mind's eye visualized better times.

It kept him from thinking, yet allowed his mind to run wild. There's not much to be seen or discussed in a dark prison cell, but that gave him the liberty to imagine anything he wanted. There were no distractions. The darkness kept his head empty, allowing him to daydream to his heart's content.

All in all, it was toying with him, and he let it.

It didn't matter much, anyway. He most likely would never get out. He'd never again train with Mr. Davenport. He'd never again go on missions with his siblings. He'd never again pull pranks with Leo. He'd never again eat Tasha's homemade meals. He'd never again trade insults with Eddy. He'd never again drive Principal Perry up the wall. He'd never again be part of a family. He'd never again be… content.

After all the lives that were saved, some of whom were those of his jailers, after all the problems that were fixed, this was how he got rewarded. He was a hero. But, no one saw him that way. Here he was a guinea pig, a science experiment, a subject, a freak, a lab rat. In other words, something less than human… And that's exactly the treatment he got.

He was kept under lock-and-key like priceless diamonds, except less valuable in their eyes. The treatment he received was anything but hospitable. They obviously didn't care to make him comfortable, despite the fact that this prison was to be his new residence.

He felt like screaming, but he was too tired. He felt like banging his head against the door, but he was too lazy. He felt like ripping the walls apart, but he was too weak.

He wondered how long until he completely lost it. How long would all the hurt, loss, and seclusion take to eat away at his insides?

Lying on his side, he curled up into a ball on the make-shift bed. His absentminded, hazel eyes stayed open, wandering around the room. He didn't know how long until he cracked beyond repair.

But, until then, he had his thoughts to keep him company. That, and the darkness.

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 **Aww, por Chasey :'( I almost feel bad for doing that to him. Almost. Hopefully this story evoked in you some type of sadness, angst, sympathy, or other related emotions. If so, then I successfully completed my mission. Better report back to headquarters for my next assignment. Emotionally evoking stories won't write themselves.**

 **00Inspiration, over and out.**


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